


no one told you life was gonna be this way

by SkeletalSailor



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Connor Deserves Happiness, Crack, Domestic, Fluff, Gen, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Humor, Multi, Other, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Probably Crack, Rated Mature because Hank is a potty mouth and i wanna be SAFE, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, definitely crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkeletalSailor/pseuds/SkeletalSailor
Summary: Sometimes, Connor struggles to adjust to life as an individual. But he's trying, dammit.These are days in the life of the Androidformerlysent by CyberLife.(pretty much a collection of random post-Pacifist stuff that I feel like writing)





	1. Groceries

" _Connor, fuck's sake. I'm fine."_

 

_"You're exhausted, Lieutenant. You've been awake for the last twenty-four hours. It's not even recommended that you drive with that level of fatigue, let alone continue running errands. My calculations indicate it would be best for you to get some rest as soon as possible."_

 

_"You know where you can stick your calculations?"_

 

_"Based upon your tone, I suppose the correct answer would be 'up my ass'."_

 

_Hank clapped slowly. "Bravo, you got it right for once."_

 

* * *

 

Connor stared at the grocery list in his hand. Even putting extra power towards comprehensve and deciphering functions did little to yield results from the haphazard writing.

 

He could make out vague words that were likely meant to be other words-- "steak" and "hot pockets", as a few examples.

 

But beyond that, it was hopeless to comprehend what it was that Hank was requesting. He was certain none of it was an acceptable, healthy-for-a-human diet, however.

 

Connor folded up the paper into a neat square before flicking it into the nearby trashcan. While his knowledge on human cuisine was not as expansive as androids designed for that purpose specifically, he could still make do. After all, thanks to early RK models, he maintained some caregiving functions.

 

* * *

 

_"Fine, fine! Get off my case," Hank finally relented. "I'll let you go fucking shopping for me."_

 

_"Thank you, Lieutenant," Connor sighed exasperatedly as he shoved himself in the car's driver seat. "Write a list for me, and I will do my utmost to accommodate."_

 

_"Yeah yeah, I'm on it," Hank mumbled, scribbling lazily into his notebook as Connor started the car. "Don't gotta fuckin' baby me."_

 

_Though the Lieutenant claimed that, Connor found that the grizzled, 53-year-old Lieutenant's attitude seemed much more akin to that of a human toddler than a fully grown adult at times. He wouldn't say that out loud, of course. Self-preservation protocols warned against that._

 

_On the topic of self-preservation, Connor was more than relieved that he managed to talk his way into the driver's seat upon realizing that Hank had fallen asleep before he even got out of the parking lot._

 

* * *

 

Connor grabbed a shopping cart as he booted up the recipe functions of his software. He frowned at some of the fancier options on his list. He had never paid much attention to Hank's pantry given he didn't require human food himself, but he still had an idea of what Hank liked given they somewhat lived together.

 

The android brushed the exquisite recipes off of his interface, instead opting for the healthy-yet-simple items that the Lieutenant would be more likely to eat.

 

* * *

_"Fuckin' android," Hank huffed as Connor helped him up to his house._

_"Technically, saying that could be thought of as racist now that androids are considered their own race, Lieutenant," Connor smirked when Hank made a disgruntled noise. It wasn't entirely true, given Detective Reed got away with hateful asides towards Androids fairly regularly, and Connor knew the Lieutenant meant no harm by it. But he would never pass up an opportunity to tease._

_"In that case, don't make me commit a hate crime," Hank huffed out the threat as he unlocked the front door. He turned to Connor, handing him the keys once he got the door open._

_Connor stared at the keys, trying to assess what the Lieutenant was trying to do._

_"Take the damn keys, Connor," Hank finally huffed after several moments._

_"Why?" Connor questioned, cocking his head to the side when Hank's expression fell._

_"Because I ain't leaving the door unlocked while I'm passed out, and you gotta go get my damn groceries and bring them back," Hank irritably explained. "I don't want you breaking another of my goddamn windows, so I'm giving you the keys so you can unlock the door like a regular fuckin' person."_

_Oh. That was a logical path of reasoning that Connor should've managed to deduce on his own. Maybe his systems needed recalibration._

_Connor took the keys from Hank's grasp, storing them in his pocket alongside the list of requested groceries._

_"I'm trusting you," Hank slurred before yawning. "You better not buy shit that'll kill me, got it?"_

_"Got it."_

 

* * *

 

Connor froze as he began looking over ingredients, replaying the earlier conversation on a loop. He recalled that humans often times had allergies or intolerances to certain foods. While he was 96% sure Hank was merely being sarcastic and melodramatic, and would've actually warned him if there was a risk of Connor buying something that would legitimately 'killed him', the Lieutenant was also tired which accounted for the 4% of uncertainty.

 

Exhaustion obviously hampered many of his cognitive processes, if his capability in writing a shopping list was any indicator. Given he was attempting to improve the Lieutenant's health and quality of life, it would be unfortunate to feed him something that would cause an ill effect.

 

Connor's LED flickered yellow as he brought up Hank's health file. Better safe than sorry.

 

> _initializing..._

 

> _file found_

 

**HANK ANDERSON**  
_Sex: Male_  
_DOB: 9/6/1985_  
_Height: 6'2"_  
_Weight: 209 lbs_  
_Pre-Existing Conditions: Overweight, Borderline Diabetic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression_  
**_Allergies: Feather Pollen_ **

 

Connor's LED flickered back to blue as he completed his analysis. No food allergies meant he didn't need to shrink his already limited repertoire of recipes beyond matters of his personal taste, which was yet another relief.

 

Connor looked inside his cart. Plenty of vegetables, fresh meat, some fruits... Without a doubt, he'd be stuck making every single meal because he was sure Hank wouldn't bother even _attempting_ , but he had more than enough time on his hands to take up culinary preparation.

 

Despite being filled to the brim with groceries, Connor couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something absolutely, high-priority, _100%-probability-Hank-is-going-to-throw-the-nastiest-fit-ever-because-you-forgot_ , important.

 

Connor scanned over the items in the cart.

 

Oh. He'd gotten produce, dairy, protein, everything important to a normal human, but he hadn't gotten alcohol of any sort, which was undoubtedly important for Hank. Important that he can easily pre-construct the reprimanding he would receive at returning home without it.

 

Connor's LED flickered yellow once more as he began to engage in some quick research. After as much effort as he went through to ensure Hank's diet would be improved upon, it would be disappointing to have his drinking habit ruin suddenly improved dietary habits.

 

Something with less alcohol content would be ideal, both for Hank's health and because he had no desire to stop at a liquor store on the way home and would much rather buy it _here_ , alongside the rest of the groceries. Of course, he had no doubt that Hank would probably just march off to a liquor store after finishing whatever he picked out if he wasn't "drunk enough", but he could still certainly try.

 

Something that would even be at least semi-beneficial to drink in moderation, even though he was absolutely certain "drinking in moderation" wasn't a set of words in the grizzled Lieutenant's vocabulary.

 

After a quick database consultation, Connor finally settled on wine. It was still alcoholic, so Hank couldn't complain that he forgot at the very, very least.

 

With a pleased smile on his face, Connor made his way to the checkout, and after that, back home.

 

* * *

 

Hank groaned when he stumbled out of the bedroom. 8 AM, too fucking early for anyone to be awake, but he was sure his walking, talking, sent-by-CyberLife alarm clock would be on his case any moment if he weren't awake and getting ready within the hour.

 

He started his morning coffee, then glanced over at the couch Connor had started to occupy since unofficially moving in with him.

 

Connor's LED was circling yellow, eyes firmly closed, body curled in a position the android had come to find comfortable. He was on rest mode, and probably mid-update or calibrations, if he were to hazard a guess.

 

Hank made a note to be quiet; because he was never really 'asleep', Connor woke up easily. He deserved the rest, especially after the effort he went through for Hank the previous day.

 

Bringing him coffee, buying his food, hell, even driving him and buying groceries. That's not even getting into the grumpy bullshit he has to deal with on a daily, hourly, _minutely_ basis.

 

Hank smiled fondly. Connor was a good kid.

 

He turned to his refrigerator, opening it to grab something small for breakfast.

 

He blinked. Then blinked again.

 

"The _fuck_ is this shit?!"


	2. Texting at Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has an small emergency while Hank is at work. Hank's contact names are not nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the previous chapter seemed pretty well-received regarding kudos, so I guess I'll keep posting them if you guys want?

* * *

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:25 am)_ : Lieutenant.  
**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:27 am)_ : Lieutenant, please help.  
**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:30 am)_ : Please.

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:32 am)_ : what do you want, Connor?

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:32 am)_ : I'm in a predicament.

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:33 am)_ : ok, no shit. you only text me when something is wrong.

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:33 am)_ : Because you don't like texting, and contrary to your belief, I do attempt to minimize the number of inconveniences I cause. Unfortunately, I'm not in a position for a phonecall.

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:33 am)_ : GET TO THE FUCKING POINT, CONNOR.

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:34 am)_ : There's absolutely no need to shout at me, Lieutenant.  
**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:34 am)_ : The 'point', however, is Sumo.

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:35 am)_ : oh fuck.  
**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:35 am)_ : Is Sumo okay? What happened? Do I need to come home?  
**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:35 am)_ : Connor I swear to God or rA9 or whatever fucking deity exists I will fucking KILL someone if Sumo is hurt.

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:36 am)_ : Lieutenant, it's generally considered unwise to threaten murder. Especially given we both work within the Police Department.  
**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:36 am)_ : But to answer your question, Sumo is fine. I'm less so, unfortunately.  
**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:36 am)_ : He chased a cat.

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:37 am)_ : He wasn't wearing a leash?

**Connor, the dumbass sent by Cyberlife** _(sent 10:37 am)_ : No, he was wearing a leash. I was attached to it. 

-

-

-

-

- 

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:39 am)_ : Lieutenant?

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:40 am)_ : sorry. everyone was staring at me for laughing. i had to play it off like i wasn't dying at the mental image of you getting dragged around like a damn ragdoll.

**Connor, the dumbass sent by Cyberlife** _(sent 10:40 am)_ : Lieutenant. I am currently stuck in a fence at the dog park that our dog dragged me into. If you could please come assist me, it would be greatly appreciated. I'm surrounded by dogs.

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:40 am)_ : i thought you liked dogs?

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:41 am)_ : I do. This /should/ be a joyous ocassion. Unfortunately, they're very loud and it's beginning to overwhelm my audio processor. 

-

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:42 am)_ : There's also several chihuahuas in the pack, which are unexpectedly vicious despite their size. 

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:42 am)_ : Oh fuck. I'll be right there.

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:42 am)_ : Thank you, Lieutenant.

-

-

-

-

-

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:44 am)_ : Reed. Cover my desk for me. 

**FuckBoy** _(sent 10:45 am)_ : What the fuck? You're skipping out on work again?

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:46 am)_ : Family emergency. I'll be back.

**FuckBoy** _(sent 10:47 am)_ : Bring me back some fucking donuts, since you're lumping your work on me. 

**Hank Anderson** _(sent 10:48 am)_ : You'll have to watch my desk longer if I do.

**FuckBoy** _(sent 10:48 am)_ : Strawberry glazed.

-

-

-

-

-

**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:50 am)_ : Please hurry, Lieutenant.  
**Connor, the dumbass sent by CyberLife** _(sent 10:51 am)_ : I believe one of them is trying to mate with my leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: my boyfriend proofreads my fics, so all errors can be shoveled off on him
> 
> that being said, all feedback is welcome!! <3


	3. Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor angsts over his jacket. Plotting makes him feel better. (Hank doesn't know what the fuck he's plotting.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct continuation of Chapter 2. (what, some semblance of plot? it's still probably pure crack)

While Hank took the Saint Bernard into the house, a quick stop before heading back to the precinct, Connor waited in the car. He had the option to stay home since it was still his day off, but after the events of the morning, he wasn't entirely sure he _liked_ the idea of staying home. So he insisted on going back to work with Hank, even if he wasn't necessarily allowed to work while there.

 

Connor frowned as he stared at his tattered jacket, laying in his lap in the saddest and most pitiful manner a jacket could.

  
>> **// _ANALYZING..._ //**

  
The LEDs in the jacket were flickering out, the batteries and wiring severely damaged alongside the surrounding fabric. Holes and scratches lined the arms, and massive grass and dirt stains covered the back.

  
He could wash it and get the stains out. But he wasn't sure it was even possible to fix the extensive damage to the jacket itself.

  
"You okay, Connor?" Hank asked as he sat back in the driver's seat. "You've been staring all puppy-eyed at that jacket since I picked you up."

  
"I'm fine," Connor spoke, but Hank could hear the apprehension at saying that. The slight shake of emotion in the android's speech.

  
"Come on, spill," Hank urged, placing a hand on Connor's shoulder as an attempt to comfort him.

  
Connor frowned, lifting the tattered attire to accentuate how damaged it was. "I really liked this jacket. It looked good on me."

  
Hank frowned the same as Connor. "I'll buy you a new one, if that'll make you feel better."

  
"No," Connor sighed, shaking his head. "CyberLife stopped manufacturing these jackets alongside the RK800 line of androids. Given their programming works similar to mine, I doubt any of the other ten RK800 Connor models in existence are willing to part with their jackets, either. So getting a new one is out of the question."

  
"Fuck," Hank spoke under his breath. That was always a fucked up scenario; you really love something and then it's discontinued. Growing up when he did, that was something he could relate to Connor on a spiritual level with. "Don't they have some other jacket model that would made a decent replacement?"

  
Connor shook his head a second time. "The closest in existence is the RK900 model jacket. The new models are bigger, so the jackets are too, but the design is almost identical. Theoretically, a tailor could modify it easily."

  
"Then I'll go up to CyberLife and--"

  
"The _colors_ , though," Connor interrupted with an annoyed grimace, "I don't like them."

  
Hank resisted the urge to snicker at Connor's tone. Out of all the things for him to complain about, colors weren't on the top of Hank's list of expected complaints.

  
"So you _don't_ want a new jacket?" Hank inquired, though even he expected the response he would get.

  
"No. Not that one, at least."

  
Connor remained quiet for the trip, sulking in the seat beside Hank as he fidgeted loosely with the frayed strings of his jacket. The only time he moved or made any effort to pay attention to anything beyond his damaged article was when Hank pulled into the parking lot of O'Mansley Donuts.

  
"Lieutenant?" Connor piped up, LED circling curiously as he glanced over at Hank.

  
"I had to bribe Reed with donuts to get him to watch my fucking desk while I was gone," Hank explained. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

  
>> **// _New Mission?_ //**

  
Connor's eyes lit up, a smile pulling on his lips. "I'll get them."

  
>> **// _OBJECTIVE_ : Buy donuts for Detective Reed//**

  
"I mean, I ain't gonna stop you," Hank shrugged, leaning back in the seat. "Even though I don't know why you're suddenly happy about buying that prick food."

  
"No reason," Connor said, but Hank knew there damn well _was_ a reason behind it. But he wasn't going to question it; Connor having the occasional mischievous streak had just become a facet of his personality. "Strawberry glazed, correct?"

  
"Uhhh..." Hank checked his phone's text reel; somehow, yes, Connor knew what kind and that was a _little_ worrying. "Yup."

  
"Excellent," Connor said with a concerningly chipper tone.

  
Hank sighed. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what went on in the android's processors.

 

 

* * *

  
>> **// _OBJECTIVE_ : Take gift to Detective Reed//**

  
"I can't believe you wasted the money getting him an entire _dozen_ ," Hank huffed.

  
"My money isn't spent on much else," Connor shrugged. "All of our shared bills are paid, my upgrades are currently up to date, and I'm not particularly materialistic."

  
"Yeah, but spending it on _him_? I don't get it," Hank lifted an eyebrow when Connor's LED circled yellow.

  
"You don't have to," Connor replied simply as his LED settled back on blue, and Hank swore he saw a smirk tug on the android's lips. Hank shook his head. He really needed to figure out what that damn LED moodring bullshit meant.

  
Hank scrubbed his face as they stepped into the office. Connor looked like a damn mess; even without his jacket, his white undershirt was still stained with an entire rainbow of stains, and his face was scuffed and disheveled in a way that just spoke _"I have been through some shit, both metaphorically and literally"_.

  
Yet, despite that, Connor seemed weird pleased with himself, especially considering he was carrying a box that _he_ paid for, filled with donuts that he _couldn't_ eat, for an _asshole detective_ who seemed to wish _he_ was dead.

  
Hank rolled his eyes as Connor marched right over to Gavin's desk, his usual pleasant smile plastered annoyingly across his face.

  
"Good afternoon, Detective Reed," Connor greeted, waiting for a reply.

  
Gavin remained quiet, but upon realizing that Connor wasn't leaving, finally relented. He struggled to speak without insensitive insults that would result in write-ups. "What do you want, _'Detective'_?"

  
Connor set the box down in front of the Detective. "I merely wished to thank you for allowing Lieutenant Anderson to come to my aid. I know it must've been a major inconvenience for you, so I hope these will make up for it."

  
Gavin remained quiet, blinking several times before even attempting to speak. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to formulate words.

  
" _You're_ the 'family emergency' he was claiming?" Gavin finally asked; an attempt to divert the conversation to avoid a proper thanks or acknowledgement.

  
"I'm unaware of what phrasing Lieutenant Anderson used," Connor explained, "But yes, I am the reason behind his sudden abandonment of his duties. Again, I hope this is sufficient to make up for my error."

  
Gavin opened his mouth again but stopped, opening the box and grabbing one of the strawberry-glazed confections. He took a large bite, growling quietly in annoyance.

  
Connor resisted smirking at how hard Gavin tried to avoid engaging in polite behavior.

  
With a muffled mouthful of donut, Gavin finally spoke. "Yeah... no problem. Thanks, I guess," followed by a waving gesture that, over the last few months, Connor had roughly translated into meaning _"go the fuck away, you dumb plastic prick"_.

  
Connor stepped over to his and Hank's shared desk, glancing back at Detective Reed's desk as he got settled. He spotted the Detective huff irritably at Officer Miller for trying to take one of the donuts, shoving bites of a second donut into his mouth.

  
>> **// _OBJECTIVE COMPLETE_ //**

  
" _Please_ don't say you bought him donuts to try to make him like you," Hank lifted an eyebrow, staring at Connor as the android started to fidget with his calibration coin.

  
"No, I don't care to attempt to make him enjoy my presence," Connor shook his head as he flicked the quarter into the air. "I know doing so is a pointless cause."

  
"Then why?" Hank asked.

  
"I have my reasons."

  
The android offered no further clarification as he sat, completely silent aside from the metallic flicking of his quarter.

  
> **// _If I can't wear my favorite clothing anymore, neither can that asshole._ //**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is characterization? idk, i'll figure it out as I go


	4. Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's curiosity as an individual sometimes leads to making bad decisions.

" _Hank_ ," Connor rasped out, arms wrapped around his midsection.

 

"I don't know why you're expecting pity from me," Hank sat beside him, flipping through the pages of a hardcover book. The same one he read a million times over, yet never seemed to tire of. "You knew damn well it was a bad idea."

 

"B-But..." Connor hissed as his systems contracted.

 

It's true. He knew he shouldn't have done it. Android 'digestive systems' were only meant to process things _meant_ for machines.

 

Things like thirium, or in some instances gasoline, oil, or lubricant, to keep everything functioning properly. Though not advised regularly, androids of his model could _also_ process alcohols like beer or whiskey for the sake of being _'the perfect buddy cop'_ , though they didn't incur the same effect in androids as they did in humans.

 

One thing all of these held in common: they were fluids. 

 

Burgers were, obviously, _not_ a fluid. Thus, they were not something his systems were designed to process efficiently. Or _at all_.

 

Why exactly did he do it? Why did he ignore all of the alerts that popped up, warning him against proceeding with the actions? 

 

"It appeared as though it would have a pleasant taste," Connor whined, fingers clutching at the area that his processing biocomponents laid. He could feel them contracting underneath his synthetic skin, struggling to process the foreign matter. "I've never tasted anything before, and the new update included taste sensors. I wanted to test them out."

 

"And then you got carried away," Hank chuckled. "Was the taste worth the bellyache? Or whatever the android equivalent is?"

 

Connor cringed. He took a second to think over his answer. "Logically, no. This is awful."

 

"Logically?" Hank lifted an eyebrow.

 

"While logically I _shouldn't_ do this again," Connor flashed a pained grin up at the Lieutenant. "I make no guarantees."

 

Hank rolled his eyes incredulously. "Fuck's sake, Connor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many of these to post but i'm also trying to post them in a somewhat coherent order lmao
> 
>  
> 
> next chapter should be an RK900 chapter heyo


End file.
